Living With Seamus
by Carolanne O'Rourke
Summary: Sirius Black reflects on his relationship with Seamus Finnigan (slash, mild smut, lots of fluff)


**Title**: Living With Seamus

**Rating**: PG-13

**Warnings**: This contains male/male slash, as well as Sirius the pedophile!  So you've been warned…

**Keywords**: Seamus Finnigan, Sirius Black, Seamus/Sirius, Slash, Harry Potter

**Summary**: Sirius reflects on his relationship with Seamus Finnigan.  

**Authors Note: **This was strictly written out of inspiration, I don't expect many people to get it, possibly might seem out of character to some people, but it was inspired from RPG I'm involved in.  It's AU, for in this story Sirius Blacks' name was cleared and he's living out his life in Hogsmeade, (thought still feared – some people still not believing his innocence.)  Maybe someday I'll write a story on how Sirius Black and Seamus Finnigan met.  If I get enough requests for it.  

Age is nothing but a number.  Or so I like to tell myself every evening before I climb under the covers next to a boy 20 years my minor.  I can't remember how many times I climaxed this time around that we made love, but I do know eventually the both of us worked ourselves into exhaustion, sleeping through most of our Sunday morning.  He has homework, and I promised to help him study for his History of Magic test, but I can't bare to wake him up, and I'm inwardly celebrating the fact that I beat him to consciousness, getting the rare privilege of watching him sleep.  If people knew, they wouldn't understand, just like they didn't understand my affair with two men at the same time, just like they didn't understand that I was innocent.  I keep him to myself, relishing in the moments we make together, spending any free time I have with him.  Sometimes he asks me why I insist on keeping us a secret, and when that happens, I realize just how much older I really am.  Knowing that my young lover can't see why I hide us from the world is a disturbing thought, and it makes me feel like the pedophile that I truly am.  But how wrong could this be?  I think this as I stare down into his face, taking note how the blonde hair mats to his forehead like yellow straw, an inevitable mess after a night of shagging, and falling asleep bathed in sweat.  I watch his eye balls move in circles behind closed lids, knowing that he is dreaming, and I hope it's about me.  I shouldn't allow myself to rely on him as much as I do, counting on him to make me happy, which he does, endlessly.  

He was a surprise, something that had simply fell into my lap one day, and if anyone knew, they wouldn't be able to believe it, Sirius Black and Seamus Finnigan?  There couldn't be a more unlikely, but perfect pair.  I wanted to share this with Harry, but I knew my godson would resent Seamus if he ever found out, and I could never willingly cause my young lover pain.  With a content sigh I prop myself up on my elbow and lower my head to get a closer look at the blonde boy asleep in my bed.  My fingers have a will of their own as they draw light circles on his round, freckled cheek, and I know I'm touching something forbidden, something I shouldn't even be allowed near.  A soft groan, "That tickles…" I snort softly as Seamus mumbles out the weak protest, attempting to smack my hand away but failing when I capture his hand in my own.  

I smile brightly and kiss his knuckles, caressing the top of his hand with my thumb, watching him intently as he wakes to reality.  He groans louder when he opens his eyes and sees me staring at him.  "That's so annoying…" With a grunt he turns away from me, though not pulling his hand away.

I loved this part. 

I scoot closer, leaning over his stocky body to look at his face, and dropping his hand I find his nose and just barely graze my finger up and down the bridge of it, causing him to emit a loud whine.  I bite my bottom lip, feeling mischievous as I do it again, which only irritates him further.  "Argh, stop Sirius!"  He exclaims, and I know he is waking up because his voice is no longer quiet.

I suppose blowing in his ear was going a little too far because before I was even aware of it, he had turned back over and bit the inside of my arm.  I squawk, very unlike me when sharp teeth sink into my skin and a surprised laugh gets lost in a gasp.  He doesn't let go and I'm torn between moaning and shouting, but instead I settle for just waiting it out, letting the pain pass through me.  When he pulls away he glares at me, knowing that what he had just done had had the opposite effect of what he had been going for, and I was sure he wanted to poke my lust-filled eyes out.  

Seamus Finnigan wasn't a morning person.  

He pursed his lips and slapped me hard in the chest, before crawling off the bed and falling onto the floor with a grunt.  My eyes widen and I chuckle in amusement as he clumsily gets to his feet and stumbles into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.  This was routine.  He loved me as long as he didn't have to be woken up by me.  Hearing the shower running I figured it wouldn't do to just stay in bed, and following Seamus' lead I crawl out of the bed (without falling) and walk out of the bedroom naked, scratching at my chest and rubbing my backside.  Proceeding my antics of giving Seamus an annoying wake-up call I knew I could get him to forgive me if I made breakfast, but considering I was no Molly Weasley, my breakfast of champions went as far as muggle Cheerio's and burnt toast.  Seamus never complained though, and if he didn't like the cereal he'd dump it and make us some eggs instead.  I suppose I should feel threatened that he can cook, and I can't, but really, why would I want to learn to cook when I have a gorgeous blonde who does it for me?

He doesn't look as upset when he comes out of the bathroom, fully dressed and clean, that is until he comes into the kitchen and notices how naked I still am.  He glares at me again and I feign a look of innocence, holding a plate in each hand.  "Good morning love."  I greet, putting the plate down in front of him, and I can tell he's trying not to smile.  He always had trouble resisting my happy-face jellied toast.

I take a seat across from him, propping my bare feet up against the chair next to me, catching the Daily Prophet in my hand as the delivery owl swarms in.  I clear my throat, and say nothing else to the blonde sitting a few feet away from me opening the newspaper and looking through the contents.  He starts tapping his spoon against the plate, making a "clang…clang…clang…" noise that I'm sure he's expecting will annoy me.  I'm glad my face is hidden by the paper, because I'm wearing a grin as I picture how he looks, blonde hair slicked back, a scowl on pink, full lips, irritated that he doesn't have my full attention.  "Dean is coming back from vacation tomorrow."  He states airily, and I twitch.

The little bastard, I think.  I don't say anything and instead ruffle the paper in my hands and skim through a story about the Ministry losing its political power.  "Yeah, he sent me an owl yesterday.  He says he can't wait to see me, that he has something important to tell me."  

I press my lips together tightly and shift quite uncomfortably now in my chair, clearing my throat as I inwardly tell myself not to fall for his "tricks."  I didn't mind Dean Thomas, even shagged him once, but that didn't stop me from wanting to feed the little bugger to Moony whenever I was aware of him and Seamus being together.  Seamus and I weren't committed, and we weren't the type of wizards to tie ourselves down, but we still cared about each other, and shagged like bunnies whenever we got the chance.  But I always had a fear that Seamus would wake up one day and realize whom he was with, and leave me for Dean.  I knew I should really give my young lover more credit than that, but sometimes it was difficult not to think about such things.  I heard him push back his chair and the patter of his feet rang rigid in my ears.  He turned the sink on, and I figured he was washing his hands but didn't dare look and find out.  He spoke over the running water.  "He's been working out.  Going to muggle gyms and building muscle, he sent me a picture, he looks really hot."  

My hands started to shake and I slapped the newspaper down onto the table hoping Seamus hadn't noticed anything, but I'm sure he did, he lived for teasing, and would no doubt be checking for signs of discomfort.  I smoothed out the paper, looking anywhere but him and tried hard to concentrate on the words in front of me.  "He invited me to spend the summer with him."  

That broke my resolve.  "What?"  I snapped, turning to look at Seamus in outrage.  "You said you were spending the summer with me."  I shouldn't have cared, really I shouldn't have, but more than that I knew I shouldn't have let him pull my chain, eventually getting the best of me.  When he smiled throwing a dry cheerio into his mouth I was completely aware that he had won.  

He didn't say anything in response and instead sat on my naked lap, forcing me to put my feet back on the floor.  I frowned, leaning back against the chair and let him kiss me.  Kissing him was like licking chocolate pudding off your fingers, it was tangy, erotic, and sweet, and he knew how to fuel my desire, something that he had picked up quite quickly.  I pouted when he pulled out of the kiss and pressed my forehead against his, licking at my lips, savoring his taste.  "I lied."  He whispered, obviously amused.  

Yes, this was routine.  It was me who was glaring now, and I made it very public that I was quite annoyed with what he had just done.  He kissed my temple, shifting in a circle directly over my open crotch, the little tease, which caused me to stiffen and bite back a moan, my eyes closing.  We were lovers, but endlessly battled one another in everything we could possibly think of, and he loved to smite me, enjoyed rubbing trivial sexual matters in my face, like my old age, or even questioning my stamina.  It was an ongoing trial of who could eventually top whom, but in the end he always ended up on bottom, which wasn't necessarily the losing end.  "You're going to be the death of me."  I state, my skin flushed a rouge color as my hands touch him, all over, everywhere they could possibly go.  

He watched me, a fond look on his Irish features, and taking note of how his old lover worked, I could sense him doing all of this, and I felt special.  "Don't die too soon."  He insisted, before grabbing my hardness in his hand.


End file.
